I Wish I Could Do My Life Like My Hair

July 3, 2014January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I got my hair cut and colored last week. No big thing. I try to go in every six weeks because by then my hair is getting shaggy and the color has faded from red to a copper. This last time, though, my stylist Tammy asked if we could do something different with the color.

She put in the red lowlights like always, but wanted to do something other than leaving the coppery remnants from the previous colorings. She asked my permission and I said sure. I’m always game to do something different with my hair.

Tammy mixed up the color, but didn’t tell me what it was. I didn’t ask. I just let it ride.

I was a little surprised when she washed it all out and it ended up being so dark, but I like it. I think it looks good. I can’t wait to see what happens when the color starts to fade.

I have this tendency to be quite cavalier with my hair. When I went from long to shoulder length in my late 20’s, I told the stylist to do whatever she wanted, just cut it off. Really. When I decided to get the pixie cut, I basically quit coming up with reasons not to and just said, “fuck it”. Every time I’ve colored my hair, it’s been with the idea of “let’s see what happens”. I’ve done it all with a spirit of adventure and an understanding that I could deal with the fallout later if I didn’t like it.

I just wish I could be so free-spirited in the rest of my life. Most of my decisions are made based on taking very little risk. It’s all about being practical and mature, very security-conscious. I’ve always been a rather conservative risk-taker in my life, but there have been times, most notably in my early 20’s, when I was just like, “Hey, whatever. Let’s ride. I’ll deal with any consequences later. I want to enjoy what’s going right now and see how far it can go.” And I’ve paid for it. And in ways I’m still paying for it.

But I’m also paying a heavier price for being so cautious, I think. It’s sort of puts a cramp in my life, living responsibilities first, always. It’s hard to have a good time being so hung up on being safe. I can’t just say “let it ride” anymore because I’m always too busy thinking about the next thing. Part of it has to do with the instability of my income and my overwhelming need to pay the bills. But part of it is because I’ve become very complacent in my 30’s and I don’t want to bust out with something rad because it might mess up my sleep schedule.

And that’s a drag.

I need to live my life more like I do my hair.

At least, maybe, a little bit.

Picture: Fat Girl in a Two-Piece

June 24, 2014January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

When I posted about my fat girl two-piece swimwear a couple of weeks ago, I was pretty torn on the idea of actually posting a picture of me wearing it on the interwebs. After all, this is the shit memes are made of. “A fat girl in a bikini? Let me caption this! LOL!”

Also, I am by no means popular, but this sort of thing is a magnet for assholes. “Here! Allow me to comment negatively on your body for no other reason than I like to make other people feel shitty as a means of a controlling them!” For real, that’s what you’re doing. Even if you do it nicely under the guise of being “real” or “truthful” or “helpful”, in the end you’re just propagating stereotypes and garbage knowledge because to allow this sort of thing to exist without comment would go against society’s grain and that would make you feel oogy.

But I said, “fuck it”, and posted it on Twitter and Facebook. And now here.

Isn’t it funny how a picture can bring out this sort of thing? Not just the insensitivity and the bashing, but the discussion of the social implications of me, a fat girl, a woman in general, posting a picture of myself in a swimsuit.

When I first decided to change my Facebook and Twitter profile pictures and use this image, I thought I should crop it to reduce the amount of skin showing. I didn’t want to make certain relatives and friends uncomfortable on Facebook and I didn’t want to appear as unprofessional on Twitter since I do hock my cheesy wares over there from time to time.

Isn’t that funny?

I worried about making people who are supposed to love me for who and what I am uncomfortable by putting up a picture of who and what I am. Now that’s just stupid. First of all, that picture shouldn’t change their feelings. Second of all, I already make many of them uncomfortable because of who and what I am without displaying any fat rolls. The picture is of no consequence.

I worried about appearing unprofessional on Twitter because I have this thing about being respected and laws knows that a woman can’t be respected if she is at all comfortable with her body and displays it in any way she sees fit. By the power vested in my boobs, I’m already starting way down the respect ladder. And if I show them off in any way, knock me down a few rungs more. Ain’t that some bullshit?

It’s summer. My Twitter bio says I’m the Lincoln Land Cleavage Queen three years running (thanks for that, Carl). Why can’t I be professional AND have a profile picture displaying both of these facts? I think I can and I did. The picture won’t change what I tweet and won’t change the fact that I have always and will always demand the respect I think I’m entitled (I’ve got a real hang-up with it, kids, enough to warrant its own post).

Now, let’s take a look at the picture itself. Pretty nice, huh? Love the hat. The pose and the angle doesn’t really show off the full effect of my 240 pounds. The way I’m angled so you can’t see how wide my hips and shoulders are, the way the swimsuit sits so the fat rolls are subdued, the fact that my arms and legs are mostly out of the picture, it all sort of lies. I mean I do carry my weight somewhat well, but this angle makes me look better. This actually wasn’t my intention. My roommate Carrie said I looked like I belonged on the Riviera, so I posed as such.

From this angle, you also can’t see my bad skin, as it’s mostly on my right side and my back. The height of the bikini bottoms hides the stretchmarks on my upper belly. The bikini top hides the worst of my boob stretchmarks, but if you look sharp there, on the left side just above where that strap comes around my ribs, you can see one of my surgery scars. Snazzy, huh?

When I look at this picture, you know what I focus on? How great my rack looks in the bikini top. Seriously. The girls look fabulous.

You know what bothers me the most when I look at this picture? I’m not wearing lipstick. I wish I was sporting my berry color just to brighten up my face and give myself a little more glamour. Also, I wish I’d picked a different color nail polish. My pink or coral or blue would have been better.

Yeah, I’m pretty vain like that.

Fat Girl in a Two-Piece

June 12, 2014January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

It was a half-price sale that got my attention. I like the sound of things being half-price. It sounds like me spending money on things I wouldn’t ordinarily buy.

This half-price sale?

Swimwear.

I haven’t owned a bathing suit since high school. I think the last time I wore one was my freshman year during a band trip to Virginia Beach. At least that’s the last time I remember wearing one. After that, my swimwear was usually an old t-shirt and an old pair of shorts. This was mostly because I didn’t really go swimming enough to justify buying a new swimsuit. It was also because after my freshman year, my chest grew to such a size that finding a bathing suit that fit was incredibly difficult and even if I did find one, I wouldn’t want to be seen in it.

So here were are about twenty years later and I’m faced with a half-price sale on swimwear and I think to myself, “Man, I should really buy a swimsuit. I haven’t had one in years and Mom has a pool and this is just fate, really. I shouldn’t fight it.”

I looked through the offerings of fat girl one-pieces and wasn’t exactly thrilled with them. “Control panel” is a phrase I regard with some suspicion because I interpret it as “SQUISH!” and that doesn’t thrill me. All of the one-piece suits had this feature and it bummed me out because I didn’t want to smoosh my fat and internal organs just to possibly not offend some delicate snowflake that might faint at the glimpse of my pudge.

I thought I was out of luck, and then I thought, “Why can’t I just get a two-piece?”

Indeed, why couldn’t I? Sure, I’d been told by society at large, not to mention people I converse with directly under the guise of being friends and family, that fat girls weren’t allowed to wear two-piece bathing suits, that actually fat girls shouldn’t wear swimsuits at all, but if you insist, cover as much fat and skin as you can. But wouldn’t a two-piece be the answer to my “control panel” problems?

It would.

It would also be cheaper.

See, buying separates meant that I could buy the bottoms from the fat lady department and the tops from the non-fat lady department (thank you, breast reduction) and it’d be cheaper than two fat lady separates or a fat lady one-piece. Plus, more variety.

In looking through my choices of tankinis, another thought occurred to me.

“Why can’t I get a proper two-piece and just let my fat hang out?”

Again, the only thing I could come up with was society not wanting to see my rolls. But they wouldn’t. I’d be in my mom’s backyard. Only, she, my nieces, my roommate, and maybe my stepdad would see my rolls. And they’ve already seen them. Besides, the cottage cheese would already be on display in the dairy section that is my thighs, so who cares about some rolls in the bakery? Really, what’s the big whooop?

In the end, I got what you see in the picture. A pair of bottoms, a tankini, and a halter style top. I was pretty excited about getting them, more excited that they fit, and positively thrilled at the fact that I think I look pretty damn spiffy in both top styles. Yes, even the one with my fat belly exposed.

Twenty years ago, when I was actually much thinner, I NEVER would have worn a bikini. I wouldn’t have done it seven years ago after I’d lost forty pounds. But today, at age 34 and weighing around 240 pounds, I now own the first two-piece swimsuit I’ve had since I was probably a toddler and I’ll rock it like a badass.

My fat rolls thank me for the freedom.

I’m Not Child-Free…I Just Don’t Want Any Kids

May 27, 2014January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I don’t have kids, don’t particularly want kids (though I reserve the right to change my mind at any point because I’m not very comfortable with absolutes; I do know that if I acquire a kid, it won’t be me getting pregnant because that squicks me too much), but I bristle at the term “child-free”.

If you’ve never heard of the term, here’s my version of the definition: child-free people don’t want kids, don’t like kids, don’t like YOUR kids, and basically don’t think anyone should have kids, and if they do, they shouldn’t inflict their children on the general public until they are no longer children.

As much as I can’t stand parents who think their children are special little unicorns that would be ruined by discipline and here is 100 pictures a day to prove that and shouldn’t you be having kids because your life has no meaning if you don’t, these child-free people are just as bad.

Bitching incessantly about other people’s children, using quaint terms like “breeder” and “crotch dropping” to refer to every parent and child (I only use “crotch dropping” for special occasions to refer to either adult or child because, seriously, that is a pretty great insult), somehow thinking that the human race could continue to exist without reproduction. I get that people don’t like kids, but seriously, they need to pull it back a tick. The kid-hate/parent-hate is just a bit much. I’m not particularly fond of teenagers, but the mere sight of them doesn’t turn me into a raving, venom-spewing asshole. Most of the time.

I believe that there’s a huge distinction between child-free people and people without kids. First of all, not all people without kids are child-free. Some of them can’t have kids, but would like to and for whatever reason haven’t acquired any yet. Some people without kids are undecided about having kids. Or waiting to have kids.

And some people that don’t have kids and don’t want any kids aren’t child-free. They’re like me. They like kids, they just don’t necessarily want any. They get annoyed with other people’s kids, but they don’t want to lock them in a room away from society until they’ve come of age and are magically not annoying anymore. Judging by the child-free people I’ve encountered alone, annoying is not a trait you just grow out of at the age of 18 or 21.

And some people that don’t have kids and don’t want kids don’t think other people that do have kids are stupid breeders. Many people want kids. And that’s totally cool. Most of my friends are parents and they’re pretty good parents. Some of them even enjoy being parents, which is awesome. I don’t believe I’ve ever had the urge to tell someone that they’re dumb for having kids.

Do I sometimes gloat a little because I don’t have any impossible extra-curricular activity schedules to manage and I get to sleep in sometimes? Sure. I consider it a fair trade for all of the potty training updates I have to endure. But it’s not with malice. It’s all done in good fun. Because I know that those parents love their kids as much as I like not having any.

So please don’t call me child-free or think that I’m child-free. I’m not. I ain’t that kind of asshole.

I just don’t have, or want, any kids.

Five Little Things That Make My Day

May 20, 2014January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

I’m in the middle of a particularly busy stretch of days (shout out to the people that can run seven days a week because I was not built for the hectic life), struggling to get things done and meet obligations and so forth. While in the shower lamenting the fact that I’m not a fan of being an adult and wishing I could be one of those people with endless stores of energy, I thought to myself, “Well, at least my hair looked good when I woke up this morning.”

And that got me thinking that there are a number of little things that seem to just brighten my day no matter what kind of day I’m having. If it’s bad, they make things tolerable; if it’s good, they just make it better. Call it counting blessings if you want, but sometimes, during the busy days when I’m dragging more than my ass, I need to remind myself that there are things that just make it for me.

So here are five little things that never fail to make my day.

1. Good Hair Day- Like I said, the days when my hair decides to do its thing in the way I wish it would are the best. Particularly the days when I’m up early for kid minding because I don’t actually take a shower and fix my hair until after I get back from taking the boy to school. It just sets a good tone for my day.

2. Good Boob Day- Not much is said about the Good Boob Day and its joys really should be extolled more. Some days, I look down and just think, “Damn my boobs look good today.” It’s a good hair day taken to the next level.

3. That’s My Jam!- I do a bit of driving for my job commute and nothing gears me up like hearing just the right song on the radio on my way to or from a gig. This usually occurs during the drive to teach because it’s Back in the Day Cafe and the Noon Workout on two radio stations so I spend the drive with songs I grew up with. I’m not going to lie. Some days when I’m dragging, I need to hear “MmmBop”. The bouncy bubblegum propels me through the afternoon.

4. Lunch- I love food, so the days when knowing what I want for lunch combines with being able to have that for lunch intersects with having time to eat that for lunch are the best days.

5. Good Dreams- Most of the time, my dreams are filled with imagery that would make people decide they’re done sleeping for life, but they’re actually pretty great for my line of horror writing. These dreams don’t bother me because I’m so used to them. But sometimes, I’m lucky to have a really good dream. One of those dreams that gives you warm fuzzies not only during the dream, but for hours after you wake up. Those are the best.

When folks say that it’s the little things, I know exactly what they mean.

I Must Art!

May 14, 2014January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

The other day I was seized with a sudden need to art. It didn’t matter what the art was, but I needed to do something artistic and creative that wasn’t writing. I thought about borrowing my roommates colored pencils, but she was still asleep and I needed to art NOW.

I ended up giving my pink flamingo Floyd a paint job (of which he was in desperate need and which I was planning to do anyway) and started working on this year’s Grinchmas gift (which I won’t mention just in case someone on the receiving in might read this) which involves quite a bit of painting and will take me some time to finish completely.

That all scratched the itch, but I still have an urge to art.

When it comes to my creativity, it’s mostly confined to writing. I do sew, of course, but my skills there are limited. But when it comes to art, I’m the limited of the limited. I can’t draw a straight line. Thankfully, when I do find myself doing art things, I do my best to avoid straight lines.

I like to art. I like to attempt to draw and paint, even if I’m not very good at it. I find it to be enjoyable sometimes to just doodle and such. I’ve done really kicky psychedelic pictures in oil pastels that look great hanging on my walls, but they’re not going to be hanging in a gallery at any point in time. I’ll be honest, though, I prefer it when the art I do can be useful (like with Floyd and the Grinchmas projects, which is also the name of my next band).

There’s also a certain hesitancy that I normally have when doing things in the nature of art, not just because I’m not good at it, but because my roommate Carrie IS an artist. Like, she went to school for it and stuff. Typically any urge I get to art is squashed by self-consciousness, if not by laziness (which squashes so many things). It’s hard for me to loosen up and art when I have an actual artist in proximity who can and will tell me everything I’m doing wrong.

But my latest need to art was too strong to be brought down by laziness or self-consciousness. Criticism be damned! I felt the urge and had to give in to it. And I’m actually pretty happy with everything I’ve done thus far. I sort of hope the feeling lasts.

Oh, and I did finally get the colored pencils.

Fat Girl Fashion in a Small Town

May 7, 2014January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

Today (as in the day I’m writing this blog post, not necessarily the day I’m posting it) I was feeling a ’60s vibe. So I wore a coral shift dress, white flats, and tied a wavy-patterned, purple bandana around my head in a ’60s style, fluffing up my my hair at the crown of my head to really sell it. I even did my make-up in a more ’60s style, but not too overtly ’60s. I don’t have the skill with false eyelashes and eyeliner to do that.

I also don’t own any white lipstick.

Then I went out and ran errands.

While out and about among the people of my little town in the cornfield, it was pretty obvious that I was operating on a different fashion level than the people I was around. Not a better fashion level, just a different one. And when you operate outside of the normal levels, well, you tend to stand out a little more.

I fell into a fashion rut a few years ago. Part of it was because I was broke and couldn’t afford new clothes. Part of it was because, even though I wanted to rock some new, stylish duds, I felt like I needed a place to wear these things. Just going out around town to run errands or going to teach homeschool or ferry the kid to and from school didn’t seem like a good enough reason to deviate from my t-shirt and jeans. I’d stand out and I didn’t want to stand out.

Last year, this started to change. First, I was able to afford new clothes. Second, I decided to stop worrying about what other people might be thinking about me because I chose to wear fishnets and boots to the liquor store (for the record, the older ladies at the liquor store have always been very complimentary about my style). Just because people around here were used to seeing only t-shirts and jeans, and people who knew me were used to seeing me in t-shirts and jeans, didn’t mean that I had to continue in that rut.

I’ve been a little adventurous in my fashion choices as a result. Wearing my coral shift dress with an olive green military style jacket, bright purple scarf, flower fishnet tights, and black suede boots. Rocking black and white patterned pants with a black or white t-shirt and black or white flats, depending on the need. Wearing an olive green tie dress and bright purple scarf (that scarf became a favorite over the winter) with gray and black fishnets and black combat style boots. Pairing my black shift dress with a red plaid shirt, gray tights, and boots.

I got a million of them.

(Okay, not really, but I wish I did.)

I kidded on Twitter that if I had a full-length mirror, people would be getting daily tweets of my outfits. Only, I wasn’t really kidding. I really would do that just because I’m so pleased that I’ve broken out of my fashion rut in such a colorful, fun way.

It gives the folks in my small town something different to look at, too.

Change and a Haircut

April 16, 2014January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

Not to be too dramatic about it, but something significant happened after I got all of my hair cut off.

I changed the way I saw myself.

Okay, yeah, duh, of course I would. Having really short hair makes me look different than when I have semi-short hair that I can still pull back into a ponytail. It’s very different from the long hair I had years ago. But the difference I’m talking about goes deeper than just hair length.

The best way I can explain it is like this. I have two shelves that house some of my Cubs memorabilia. On one shelf is a picture of me taken with a friend and a player. Every time I look at that picture, I think to myself, “I’m not that person anymore.”

Of course not. That was two years ago. People change in two years. Hell, people can change in two days. But seeing myself in that picture with my old hairstyle, it’s a physical representation of how I have changed.

The person in that picture was kind of depressed, not very confident, constantly bombarded with negative thoughts. She was insecure, unsure, and feeling pretty weak.

I am not that person anymore.

Okay, I can still be somewhat negative because I’m pessimistic by nature, but I’m not focusing that negativity on me. I’m using it more as a tool of realism instead. I’m more confident about who I am now, more willing not to feel bad about not living up to society’s ideals.

The girl in that picture gave a lot of lip service to an idea that she was a worthwhile human being just as she was and people needed to accept it because it was their hang-up, not hers, and she really wanted to believe that idea, but couldn’t quite make it.

I’m not that girl anymore. Now I believe what I say. I believe that idea.

Sometimes when I think of myself, see myself in my head, I picture myself with my old hairstyle and I have to correct myself. That girl I used to be didn’t disappear; she lingers. This me grew out of that me and I have no doubt that another version of me will grow out of the me I am now. I am an always evolving thing.

Obviously, the haircut didn’t start that.

It just reminds me of it.

Those Pesky Shoulds

March 31, 2014January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

Whenever I get a little bit of free time, my mind is filled with things that I should be doing instead of not doing anything important or, laws forbid, relaxing.

I should work on that bag I started as a way to keep me occupied during afternoon kid minding.

I should do a few more lessons on Duolingo.

I should do more work on whatever writing project I’m doing even if I’ve already hit my daily To Do List demand.

This blog post is a should. I had some free time this afternoon. I did a few extra Duolingo lessons. Then I still had some time. So instead of enjoying the fact that I don’t have to make dinner this evening and resting up some before I go to work tonight, I’m writing this blog post. And after I’m done writing this, I’ll do my workout, and probably try to get a couple more chapters on A Tale of Two Lady Killers revised before I leave for floorset.

You see, so long as there are things I should be doing, then I’m always going to feel like a lazy bum if I’m not doing them when I have the time.

I already feel like a slacker, like I don’t work hard enough or have enough to do. I feel like I haven’t earned any downtime or free time or relaxation time. So I SHOULD be doing something productive. I should be working out or writing or sewing or working or SOMETHING.

Those shoulds are so pesky. They make me feel guilty every time I decide to take ten minutes to play a game or check Twitter. Because I SHOULD be doing something else. I’m wasting time.

I don’t relax. I waste time. At least that’s what the shoulds in my brain make me think. And so I go to bed feeling guilty often because I wasted time watching reruns of F Troop and The Rifleman instead of doing more exercises or writing more words or curing cancer or whatever else I should be doing.

It’s something I try to work on, but it isn’t easy for me. I envy people who can do nothing and not feel bad about it. I spent a day in bed with a really nasty headache last week and felt like a bum because I barely got one page written before I gave up on trying to be productive. Even a headache doesn’t quiet those shoulds in my brain.

Because I should have been doing something else.

For me, to not do anything is an act of rebellion because I don’t feel like I’ve earned it. Even when I complete my To Do list for the day, I didn’t earn it. I’ll never earn it and I know it. There’s always one more thing I should be doing before I can relax.

Ooh, that reminds me! I need to wrap up this post.

There’s something else I should be doing.

Esteem Problems

March 12, 2014January 22, 2016 ~ Kiki Writes ~ Leave a comment

“I don’t have low self-esteem. I have low esteem for everyone else.”

If you are of the generation that was around for an MTV show called Daria and if you were one of those generation members that watched the cartoon, then that quote should sound familiar. It’s a quote that’s been stuck in my brain since I first heard it, so we’re talking a few years.

It stuck with me because it’s true. It is an accurate statement about myself.

Whenever I find myself feeling bad about myself, thinking I’m fat*/ugly/stupid/worthless/unsuccessful**, it’s not because I truly think I’m fat/ugly/stupid/worthless/unsuccessful. It’s because I’m thinking about other people thinking that I’m fat/ugly/stupid/worthless/unsuccessful.

Other people’s hang-ups bring me down. Thinking about what they’re thinking about me bruises my ego.

Of course, I don’t know for certain that everyone is thinking these bad things about me, but if I were to go by what I know about society, there’s a good chance I’m being dismissed as no good. It makes ME dismiss people as not worth my time pretty easily.

This sort of thing has plagued me for a pretty long while. Some days it weighs on my mind heavily, bottoming out my self-worth. Some days I can’t give a damn and don’t give anyone else’s firing synapses a second of my time. Either way, it’s impacted my behavior, my choices, and my own mind.

It’s a complicated sort of thing to deal with when you think you’re pretty great, at least there’s nothing seriously bad about yourself, and yet you know most people you encounter don’t agree. Like a black cloud on a sunny day, you keep your eye on it because you know that sucker is just gonna grow and downpour all over your laundry. It’s a confusing cognitive dissonance. How am I suppose to feel about myself when I have this consensus that’s so different from my own opinion?

Also how am I supposed to feel about other people? It’s really hard to like someone or even want to like someone or want to get to know someone that I’m sure has already judged me poorly because I don’t fit into society’s neat little box. I realize that it makes me the same kind of asshole that’s got me pissy in the first place. That little bit of reality isn’t lost on me.

I’ve lost out because of this way of thinking. I already know what the answer is so I don’t bother to ask the question.

However, I think there’s a change on the horizon.

Last month, during a week-long fit of esteem troubles, I was driving to one of my jobs when I had an epiphany, a thought so sudden I swear an actual beam of light came into my brain and chased all the dark thoughts right out.

It’s very easy for me to imagine folks judging me harshly. But it’s just as easy for them not to. It’s just as easy for them to take one look at me and think, “There is a cool cat and I’d like to know her.” And what kind of asshole am I not to even give them a chance? I should. Give them a chance, that is. Not be an asshole.

I like that way of thinking better. I’m kind of enjoying it.

I think I may have found a cure for my esteem problems.

*Fat meant as a bad thing. I am fat, but that doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing.

**Unsuccessful based on certain society standards such as being married, having kids, having a real job, having a college degree, that sort of thing. That normal road that we’re all expected to walk and considered losers if we don’t.